Don't You Know I've Always Loved You?
by AmaranthineWhisper
Summary: Booth wakes up from a coma, adamant that Brennan is his pregnant wife.
1. Startling Conclusions

"Who are you?"

Her smile vanished and her body went rigid. The room was suddenly cold and unwelcoming.

She chose her words carefully. "Booth, you don't know who I am?"

He blinked and sat up a little straighter, trying to orient himself. "Where am I?"

"You're in the hospital Booth. You underwent surgery to remove a brain tumor four days ago, and have been in a coma ever since."

He mulled over the new information for a minute, scratching his head—finding the gauze that seemed to verify her words. He inhaled suddenly and grabbed Brennan's hand.

"I remember you." His eyes widened and he broke into one of his heart-melting smiles. "You and I, we're gonna have a baby."

Her heart leapt. He hadn't forgotten her after all. "Yes Booth! That's right!" she exclaimed. "You remember!"

She threw her arms around him, hugging him as tightly as his condition would allow. She felt his strong arms wrap around her shoulders, holding her close, even after she'd tried to remove herself from his grip. She didn't mind.

After a few minutes, she reluctantly extricated herself from his grasp. Instead, she sat beside him on the edge of the bed, holding his hands in her own as she began to fill him in on the details of the past few days.

"…Everyone has been by to check on you—Angela, Hodgins, Cam, Sweets—I told them that statistically speaking, you'd be fine, but we were still worried. Cam gave everyone a few days off, so there's been someone here almost non-stop." She hesitated, seeing a flicker of confusion in the soft brown eyes of her partner.

"Wait Bren, who is Cam, and why is she giving our employees time off? Who's taking care of business at the club if everyone is here?"

Now it was Brennan's turn to be confused. "What club?" she asked.

"Our club, Bren. Who's running our club?"

Something was not right. What was this "club" that Booth was talking about? Why did he refer to Angela, Hodgins, and Sweets as _their_ employees? And certainly he should know Cam.

"Booth," she began slowly, "What are you talking about? We don't have a club."

"_Our_ club Bren, _The Lab,_ the club that we bought just after we got married." He answered, clearly exasperated.

Brennan was right, something was definitely wrong. Married? He thought they were married?

He stared at her in earnest, waiting for a response.

"Booth," she began, "We're not…" she stopped. She didn't want to upset him. He'd been through a trauma and was clearly confused. She'd let him remember their relationship on his own. Or, she thought, maybe she'd tell him after he'd had a chance to rest.

"We're… the lab's just not open tonight," she replied, deciding that it was at least partially true.


	2. Good Morning, Mrs Booth

Chapter 2:

The next morning dawned, finding both Booth and Brennan still sleeping peacefully. Brennan had fallen asleep in a nearby chair, with her head resting on the edge of the hospital bed. A sympathetic nurse had covered Brennan's sleeping form with a blanket sometime in the night, and somehow, one of Booth's arms had ended up around her shoulders.

Booth awoke first, still a little disoriented, and began absentmindedly running his fingers through Brennan's hair. To him, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Brennan had hardly had a good night's sleep. She awoke in the darkest hours of the night, remembering her own carefully penned words. "_You love someone, you open yourself up to suffering." _She knew the truth in those words as she sat restless, waiting for Booth to come back to her. And she knew it now more than ever as she sat by his bed, still waiting, his hand in hers.

She awoke to gentle nudging from her partner as a nurse came in with breakfast for two. "Bren, wake up honey." She sat up, still groggy, only to find Booth beaming at her. "Breakfast," he explained, pointing to the nurse carrying the tray. "And remember, you're eating for two now," he added excitedly. The nurse smiled.

She _had _to tell him. This was going too far. But he was so _happy._ How could she take that away from him now, when he was in such a fragile state? And she had to admit, she didn't mind Booth's affection. She needed to talk to someone. She needed Angela.

Brennan obligingly ate as much breakfast as she could stomach, and helped Booth with his as well. His hand-eye coordination was slightly off, and his aim sent forkfuls of eggs spiraling down into his lap. He smiled sheepishly as she cleaned him up, and soon drifted back off into a much-needed slumber.

Brennan smiled. It was almost like taking care of a small child, or rather, a big child. She gathered her things to go and meet Angela, stopping for a moment to plant a gentle kiss on Booth's forehead. "I'll be back soon," she whispered. "I love…" she paused, unable to finish. Instead, she kissed his forehead again, softly muttering "Oh Booth."

As she shut the door, he opened his eyes and watched her walk away.

_I love you too._


	3. Best Friends & Bubble Baths

Chapter 3:

Angela met Brennan at her apartment, take-out bags in tow. They'd spoken briefly on the phone and Angela knew that her best friend was going to need more than just lunch. She had come prepared.

"Hey sweetie," she cooed, "How are you holding up?"

"Fine, I'm fine," came the characteristic response. But Brennan was far from fine, and Angela knew it. She looked positively haggard, a walking ghost, complete with dark circles under her eyes and limp, scraggly hair.

With a sigh, Angela put down the take-out bags and drew her friend into a much-needed hug. She felt Brennan relax, and realized exactly what might make her feel better. She let Brennan break the embrace and ran mischievously in the direction of Brennan's bedroom.

Brennan heard the tap turn on in her bathroom, and went to see what Angela was up to. As she walked, she could smell a faint scent of something that smelled of vanilla, and maybe cinnamon. Just as she was approaching her bedroom door, Angela met her with a smile, carrying what looked like her blue bikini.

"Okay sweetie, put this on, and meet me in the bathroom." Angela shut the door to give Brennan some privacy, and resumed lighting candles and putting too much bubble bath in the tub.

Brennan reluctantly did as she was told, and was pleasantly surprised to find a warm and inviting bathtub, full of bubbles, surrounded by the soft glow of candles. "Ange, what is this? She asked.

"Just get in sweetie. You'll see." Came her reply.

In all the time that she'd lived here, Brennan couldn't remember a single instance when she had used the tub. She wasn't much of a morning person, and her showers were always hurried. She'd never taken the time to sit down and take a bath, and soon found out what she'd been missing.

Angela smiled, seeing her relax again. She sat on a stool near the tub and began to wash Brennan's hair, massaging her temples, trying desperately to lift her spirits. "Sweetie, what's on your mind?" she asked.

"I want to talk about Booth." She replied. "Well, actually, Booth and me."

Angela beamed. "Go on," she encouraged.

"When he woke up, Booth asked me who I was. I was shocked, thinking he didn't remember me at all. But then he started talking about our baby, and how we owned a club, and Ange, he thinks I'm his _wife, _his _pregnant _wife_._"

"Thinks? As in present tense, Bren? You didn't tell him otherwise?" Angela asked incredulously.

"I know, I know. But I couldn't bring myself to tell him. It made him _so _happy. I realize that I'm going to have to talk to him eventually, but I didn't want to risk upsetting him just after surgery.

"Could there be any other reason you're stalling Bren? Like perhaps that you've finally realized that you love him?" she teased.

"I don't…well, I _do _love him Ange, I'm just not sure _how _I love him." She replied.

"_Finally!"_ thought Angela.

"Bren, he'll remember in his own time. I don't see any harm in playing along for a little while. And besides, he's right about one thing—you two do have a baby. The embryos are ready for implantation—all you have to do is go and get them…er, well, _implanted._"

Her eyes lit up as she realized what Angela was suggesting. "But Ange, Booth said that he didn't want to be the father. Remember? Before he came to the hospital, he said no." She put her face in her hands.

"No silly," said Angela, pulling Brennan's hands away from her face. That man would move mountains to make you happy. He said that if he was going to donate his "stuff," he wanted to be involved. He _wanted _to be a father. He wanted to have a baby with you, and now that he thinks he's got one, he's over the moon about it."

Brennan thought about it carefully, and came to the conclusion that Angela's logic was sound. Her scatterbrained, fun-loving best friend was absolutely right. A simple procedure—that's all it would take.

**If anyone has suggestions as to where you would like to see this story go, I'd love to hear your insights. Thanks to all who have reviewed—you inspire me to write more, even when I ought to be doing other things. ******


	4. Immaculate Conception

Chapter 4:

Brennan was conflicted. She wanted to have a baby, Booth's baby, but the timing was horrible. At the same time, she wasn't getting any younger, and the embryos were ready for implantation. Although she was almost certain that Booth would approve, it didn't feel quite right to go ahead without his knowledge. "But," she chided herself, "He already thinks there's a baby on the way."

"Rationally speaking," she thought, "post-traumatic amnesia rarely lasts for more than two weeks, and it doesn't affect one's feelings and emotions, only their expression." She thought about the implications of this. "He obviously had strong feelings for her, possibly even loved her, and it had taken the release of inhibitions for him to be able to express these feelings. And wait, that meant that he really did want to have a baby with her—he wouldn't have been so thrilled about the prospect now if he hadn't been excited about it before surgery."

It was time to go and see Booth.

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As Brennan entered the familiar hospital room, she could see that things had already been changing in her absence. Her once-sedated partner was now sitting up in bed, and the color had returned to his face. He obviously felt better.

His face lit up at the sight of her. "C'mere Bones, I've got something to show you!" he exclaimed, patting the bed beside him.

Her heart leapt. He'd called her _Bones._ Did he remember? She crossed the room and sat down on the bed, facing Booth. He grinned mischievously and pulled her into what was perhaps the best "guy hug" ever. "Bones," he whispered, stroking her back, "We're not married, you and I. We aren't, are we?" he asked.

She pulled back to look him in the eyes. "No Booth," she began, but he cut her off. "Why aren't we married Bones, because I'm sure I love you, and we're going to have a baby, and… _hey_, why do I call you Bones?"

Despite the seriousness of some of his questions, she couldn't help but giggle at the last one. "You call me Bones because that's what I do, I examine bones. I'm a forensic anthropologist. You call me Bones affectionately. And we're not married because neither of us has expressed any romantic feelings toward the other, not to mention that marriage is an antiquated institution…"

"Okay, okay, Bones," he silenced her by putting a finger over her lips. They sat in silence for a moment before Booth remembered something important. "The baby?" he asked thoughtfully, "When is the baby due? _Wait_, how did the baby happen if we've never been romantic?" he asked incredulously.

"Booth, there isn't a baby _yet, _but there can be if you want." She explained. "Before your surgery, you agreed to donate your sperm so that I could have a baby…" "But I wanted to be a _real _father, not just a donor." He interjected. I remember Bones, everything's just a bit fuzzy.

"Baby steps Booth," she said, laughing at the double meaning. She suddenly became serious. "Booth, is this something you want? To have a child, with me?" she asked.

He cracked another of his famous smiles and grabbed her hand. "Of course it is." He took her in his arms again. "Nothing could make me happier."


	5. Beds & Babies

Wednesday morning arrived, bringing a sort of fierce energy with it. The sun's powerful rays deftly permeated the hospital room, illuminating the auburn streaks in Brennan's hair.

Already awake, Booth watched her in her last few moments of shallow sleep. He marveled at how beautiful she was, lying in the brilliant sunshine.

She began to stir, her eyelids fluttering momentarily before they opened and caught him staring. She would have admonished anyone else who she caught watching her sleep. She was one of those people who never liked to be crept up on, and she absolutely hated surprises. They opened up a vulnerability from her past, and she was consciously afraid of being taken advantage of. But with Booth, it was different. He made her feel safe.

He grinned sheepishly. "Morning, Bones." He could tell that she hadn't slept well, yet again. It might have something to do with the fact that she'd been sleeping in a recliner for almost a week. He'd tried to make her go home last night, knowing that she had a busy day today. She'd adamantly refused, and he was secretly relieved.

He looked at the clock. 7:30 am. He was surprised. Judging by the sun, he would have guessed that it was much later. But if he thought about it, the early hour meant more time that he got to spend with Bones before her doctor's appointment. She was going to get their embryos implanted today at 10:30. He became almost dizzy with joy, thinking about what the result of that appointment would be. They'd be parents, together.

He moved over to the far right side of the bed, making a space, motioning to Bones to join him. He thought she might find the bed a bit more restful. And most likely, she'd let him hold her. He hoped.

Brennan climbed onto the bed. She let Booth think he had enticed her with the remote. She flipped to the Discovery Health channel, possibly the only decent channel available in a hospital room.

"Er… Bones, do you mind if I stretch out my arm some, over there, nodding towards her left side." "Sure Booth," she replied absentmindedly, feeling sleepy again. With that, Booth put his arm "over there" which of course, conveniently encircled Brennan's shoulders on its way. Brennan closed her eyes, "just for a moment," she told herself, "just while the commercial is on." She resolved. Soon she was asleep again, her head resting on Booth's chest, moving up and down with the rhythm of his breathing.

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She'd spent the most glorious hour asleep in Booth arms before finally waking up. She glanced at her watch, taking care not to move so as not to let Booth know that she was awake. 8:30. She feigned sleep, savoring the last few minutes of time close to him.

It was now almost 10:30. Brennan sat in the waiting room, clicking her heels together, almost nervously. She had researched the procedure extensively, and was confident in her doctor, yet she was still a little uneasy. She wasn't only responsible for her own happiness anymore. What if the procedure failed? She would be letting Booth down, not just herself.

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Booth watched the clock. 11:30. "She should still be at the doctor." He thought. A nurse interrupted his concentration, but it was a welcome interruption as she presented him with his discharge papers. "Just sign here, and we'll get a wheelchair sent up for you. Standard procedure sir," she added quickly as he began to protest.

An hour later, he was still waiting. _Where _was Angela? She was supposed to take him to Bones's apartment, where he'd stay for a few days. And where was his nurse with his pain medication? His head throbbed.

Finally, around 1:00, Angela arrived, sputtering apologies. "I had to drive Brennan home from the doctor. She's supposed to lie down for the next few hours, and they refused to let her drive herself home." She explained.

Booth nodded, too focused on getting out of the hospital to be irritated with Angela. Besides, she'd been helping Bones. The nurse had apologetically abstained from giving him any more medications until he was ready to leave—they didn't want him falling asleep before Angela arrived. But finally, they were on their way, Oxycodone in hand.

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Angela parked the car and looked over at Booth. He'd been silent for the past few minutes, as he'd gotten drowsier. She helped him up the stairs into Brennan's kitchen, leaving him leaning on the counter as she scoured the apartment for her friend. Brennan was sleeping soundly on her new Tempur-pedic mattress, on the far side of the bed.

Angela smiled to herself. Surely the little daybed in the guest room would be much too small for a man as broad as Booth. And he was medicated as well, which would make him more prone to fall out of bed. She promptly decided that Booth should sleep in Brennan's bed—that was the safest (and most entertaining) course of action. She went back into the kitchen to get Booth—and her camera.


	6. Sleeping with Booth

The sunlight gradually faded as Booth and Brennan lay sleeping. Soon, it was night outside; the soft moonlight filtering through the blinds.

Brennan woke up, freezing. She groped around for her bedcovers, which had vanished. She found the edge of her comforter, and began pulling it towards her, when suddenly it caught on something. Still half-asleep, she tugged harder, irrationally irritated with her bedcovers which would not seem to come any closer. She turned over to investigate, squinting in the darkness at a giant mound occupying the far side of her bed. "What in the world?" she thought. She grabbed a small flashlight from under her bedside table and shone it across the room.

Her blood ran cold. It was a man, a large man. His body was wrapped in her comforter, and she couldn't see his head—it was partially covered by her pillow. She ran through the previous day in her mind. No, she couldn't remember drinking, or bringing anyone home. In fact, the last thing she remembered was coming home from the doctor with Angela. "But," she reasoned, "it's dark outside, and there's no reason that I should have slept all afternoon." Another chilling thought crossed her mind. What if she'd been drugged? Was the man in her bed alive, or was his body some sort of warning?

She quickly ascertained that he was breathing, and appeared to be asleep. She put on her navy bathrobe, in order to blend in with the night. Quietly opening her bedside drawer, she pulled out her pistol. She crept out of her bedroom, intent on finding out if the strange man was alone, or part of a larger operation. She scoured the kitchen, living room, and closets, making as little noise as possible. When she was sure that there was no one else in the house, she returned to her bedroom and leveled her gun at the intruder.

Booth was awakened by a sharp tapping on the wall. The tapping was followed by a familiar, yet cold voice. "I have a gun trained on your head. Tell me who you are and what you are doing here." She demanded. The voice came out of the darkness—its exact location was hard to pinpoint. _There was something about that voice_, he thought groggily. He sat up slowly, fighting the medically-induced desire for slumber. "Stay where you are!" the voice commanded. He stopped.

Brennan's heart was pounding as she heard a voice she recognized. "Bones?" he asked. "Bones, what are _you_ doing?" She fumbled for her flashlight to confirm with her eyes what she'd just heard. Sure enough, sitting on her bed was a dazed Booth, squinting his eyes at her. He was so, "Oh, what's the word," she thought, "so…adorable." He was sitting there, looking at her questioningly with those big brown eyes.

"Booth, you scared me to death. What are you doing in my bed?" she asked, clearly exasperated. He scratched his head for a moment, trying to recall. "Uhm, I remember Angela saying something about how I had to sleep in here because I wouldn't fit in the other bed. She said she didn't want me falling out and hitting my head again." He finished.

She rolled her eyes. "Angela," she thought, "I'm going to kill Angela."

Noticing her distress, he motioned for her to join him. "C'mere Bones," he said "You're as pale as a sheet."

She stood her ground, partly embarrassed for her overreaction, and partly unwilling to play right into Angela's plan.

"Bones, really, I'm the one who almost got shot today, the least you can do is come over here." He teased. Booth flashed an award-winning smile, sealing the deal.

She crossed the room, determined not to collapse into his arms—which is exactly what she felt like doing. Instead, she sat down beside him, protesting when he tried to put his arm around her. It didn't matter, he was much stronger, and much more determined. When he realized how cold she was, the first arm was followed by a second. They sat like this for a few moments, when they were rudely interrupted by the sound of Booth's stomach.

He made a face, shrugging his shoulders. It made sense—he hadn't eaten in nearly 10 hours. Brennan smiled. "Come on Booth, let's eat."

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It was nearing 3 am, and both partners knew that they had to get up early the next morning. Since Booth had eaten, he was able to take another dose of pain medication. It went unsaid that Booth would again sleep in Brennan's bed, and they returned there, turning on the TV to wind down.

Brennan could tell that Booth was beginning to get a little loopy as she lay beside him. But even she was surprised when Booth rolled over and pulled her shirt up, exposing her stomach. He put his hand squarely over her midsection, and leaned toward his hand, lips pursed. Brennan held her breath, unsure of what he was doing. He planted a gentle kiss just below her navel, and moved up to kiss her cheek. "You're going to be a great mom Bones," he whispered, "and our baby is going to love you _almost _as much as I do."


	7. Graveyard Use of the Orbicularis Oris

It had been almost a month since Brennan had returned to work. Booth's memory had been improving gradually, but was still not quite like it used to be. He could remember the big things—his job, where he lived, and who his parents were, but he would forget little things, like where he kept his shaving cream, or the name of Parker's daycare.

In an effort to help him remember, Brennan dragged him to every familiar place she knew of. They re-visited several crime scenes, including the old warehouse in which Brennan had once been bound and gagged. Booth hovered over her protectively the entire time they were there, and was all too happy to leave, although he wasn't entirely sure why until she explained. They resumed their casual habit of eating out at the diner, although Booth didn't seem to remember that he liked the pie there.

Today they were at the cemetery, visiting Teddy Parker's grave. They'd brought a picnic lunch, and were simply enjoying each other's company. They lay down, gazing at the sky as Booth tried to explain the concept of cloud-watching to Brennan. "You stare at the cloud Bones, and see what kind of shapes you recognize." He explained.

"That's illogical. Clouds are nothing more than masses of particles, suspended at a considerable altitude, and they are incapable of forming specific recognizable shapes…"

"Bones, look, it's a femur! Look there—at the long skinny cloud. You do know what a femur is, don't you?" he grinned.

"Of course I do." She said indignantly. But a femur exhibits curvature at the proximal end…" she began.

"Bones, can you see how it looks similar to a femur? Shapes in the clouds aren't exact replicas. It takes a little imagination."

He sighed. "Bones, this is why I love you." He said smiling.

"You love me because I'm intelligent?" she asked.

"No Bones, you are brilliant, but it's your quirks that are endearing. How you may be able to understand quantum mechanics, but you can't get a rhinoceros from looking at the clouds up there. Things like that." He explained.

"I'm not sure I understand." She said thoughtfully.

"You don't have to. Love doesn't make sense." He said. "_Wow, that was corny."_ Thought Booth.

"I'm not sure there is such a thing as love, Booth. There's lust, mutual satisfaction, but love?

He pulled her closer.

"How did you feel in the hospital, when you had to consider the possibility that I wouldn't make it through the surgery? How did you feel when you thought I'd been fatally shot? When I was kidnapped by the gravedigger?" he asked, praying that he hadn't gone too far.

He could see the horror in her eyes as she relived the moments in her mind. _No, that was stupid, now she's upset. I'll fix it, I'll…"_

Before he could think about what he was doing, he leaned down and captured her lips in a soft, tender kiss.

He broke away, afraid of what was coming. Instead, she asked thoughtfully, "How did you feel when you knew I'd been kidnapped, and then you found me, tied up in that warehouse?"

"Bones, I was terrified. I _had _to find you. I was imagining all the horrible things they were probably doing to you, and I wanted to get there as fast as I could. It was painful to think of losing you. It would have killed me." He finished, breathless.

She sat up, putting her hands on his face, and looking deep into his eyes. This time, she kissed him. It was slow, almost hesitant, and gentle, as if she were seeking affirmation. She whispered in his ear, "Techically, Booth, it wouldn't have killed…"

He cut her off. "Yes, Bones, truly it would have." And with that, his lips once again found hers. This time, she didn't argue.


	8. Morning Sickness & Lumpy Dresses

It had been two weeks since she'd last seen him. Two weeks since she lay in his arms in the sweet-smelling grass. Two weeks since she'd felt his lips on hers.

Booth had reluctantly gone to a training session in Maine for two weeks, and Brennan was as giddy as a schoolgirl, as she expected him home today.

She yearned to be near him, to see him smile at her, and to be in his arms once again. She'd had an idea that perhaps their relationship would take this path, and it was certainly logical to allow for this possibility, but she'd had no idea that Booth could have such an effect on her.

She'd always shot down the possibility of being with Booth because he would have wanted a commitment from her. But now, she realized she didn't have any desire to ever be with anyone else. He fulfilled her in every way. She first realized that she loved him, really truly loved him, when there was a possibility of losing him. And perhaps, deep down, she'd known it all along.

Her thinking was interrupted by a wave of nausea. She ran to the bathroom, cursing silently. At two months into her pregnancy, her morning sickness was in full swing. She hoped it would lessen as the day went on—she had somewhere to be.

Brennan was going to church.

Booth, ever the good Catholic, was stopping by mass on his way home, and she decided to brave a church service, just to be with him. She would surprise him for sure.

She picked out a dark green dress—one that was sure to flatter her figure—and turned to face her reflection in the mirror. She knew without looking that she would have to adjust the straps—her growing breasts were straining at the neckline. But what really surprised her was that her once-slender waist was protruding slightly—yet visibly.

She could hardly believe she hadn't noticed it before. And she was certain that she should not be showing quite so much at only two months along. It was intriguing, but her disbelief would have to wait. She didn't want to be late. Instead, she picked out a deep blue dress with an empire waist, successfully covering her now-larger stomach.

Brennan pulled her hair into a loose bun, grabbed her keys, and off to church she went.

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**Hi everyone. I first want to apologize that this story was on hiatus for so long. I took two very intensive summer Chemistry classes, and had little time to sleep, much less write. ******** However, the story is back on, and I should be updating regularly a few times a week. The short chapter above will be continued tomorrow for sure. As always, any suggestions or input as to the direction of the story are welcome.**

**~AW**


	9. Temperance Goes to Church

Brennan walked up the stairs to St. Mary's Catholic Church, fully realizing the irony of what she was doing. Ever the logical, rational, empiricist, Temperance Brennan was climbing the stairs of a church—not for research, nor an investigation, but to attend Sunday Mass. Hell was most certainly freezing over.

The church was almost full, and Booth was nowhere to be seen. Brennan took a seat in a row near the back, leaving just one seat open near the aisle. If Booth was late, he'd have to either sit beside her or the family of eight, who smelled faintly of spit-up. She wanted to surprise him, so she kept her head pointed directly ahead, confident that he would be there.

The service opened with a greeting and song, both of which were simple enough to follow, even though Brennan wasn't familiar with the words. As the congregation took their seats, she heard a familiar voice ask "Ma'am, do you mind if I sit here?" And without turning her head, she nodded her consent, smiling to herself. The priest then began to pray, and she saw Booth's eyes close in her peripheral vision. Grinning devilishly, she slipped her hand in his, watching his eyes spring open, widen with recognition and surprise, and then close again as he put his arm around her shoulders, smiling.

Their few attempts at talking during the service earned them severe stares from the elderly ladies sitting behind them. So they sat in silence, neither able to pay much attention to the priest or his message.

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After church, they went to Booth's apartment, and Brennan started making lunch while Booth unpacked from his trip. Brennan was mildly irritated with Booth's lack of organizational skills, which was the reason she was having trouble navigating his kitchen. The cups were in a cabinet with the spoons, and the spices shared a drawer with the bakeware.

"Booth!" she exclaimed. "Where is your can-opener? I can't find it anywhere! How _do _you ever find anything in this kitchen?" she asked, exasperated.

Booth strode out of the bedroom, chuckling. _She is incredibly beautiful when she's angry, _he thought to himself.

Brennan couldn't help but stare. Booth was striding towards her, shirtless, a perfect specimen of a man. She momentarily forgot what she was looking for as she struggled to regain her composure. "The can-opener Booth, where is it?" she asked.

Booth reached over her head, pinning her against the refrigerator, as he felt around for the infamous can-opener.

Uncharacteristically, and without much thought, Brennan lay her head against his chest, wrapping her arms around his torso, breathing in his scent. And as always, she didn't have to wait long before his arms encircled her own shoulders, pulling her close.

"Oh Booth," she sighed.

He gently lifted her off the ground, intending to set her on the couch, where the embrace could continue. But the couch, like most of his apartment, was littered with things from his trip. He looked at her questioningly, and she nodded—the bed would be okay. She knew he didn't expect anything from her of that nature, although she would have been all too happy to give herself to him completely.

They lay on Booth's bed, simply staring at each other. Their embrace was punctuated by the occasional gentle kiss, and soft-spoken words of endearment. Somehow, Booth's hands found the small bump on Brennan's midsection, and he smiled. They would be together, as partners, friends, lovers, parents, and eventually as husband and wife. He was sure of it.


	10. Compromise

That night, Brennan stayed with Booth. They had both decided to give the relationship a try. But they both knew that it would have to be an earnest, genuine effort. This was no ordinary romance. It was backed by four years of solid friendship, trust, and companionship, and there would be no going back.

They lay in bed that evening, mostly talking, and occasionally doing a little more than talking. And they didn't hold back. The platonic kiss of Caroline's orchestration paled in comparison to the kisses exchanged between the two. And when they became so passionate, that Booth could hardly breathe, he suddenly pulled back.

Brennan had begun unbuttoning her blouse, but Booth's hands stopped her. She looked up at him, confused, and feeling slightly rejected.

"No." he whispered.

She turned away, certain that he had found some fault in her. Was it because of her growing stomach?

Booth reached over to pull her close. "You're different---special," he amended. "I want to build a relationship on more than just physical attraction. Any man can recognize your beauty, but I want to love you for yourself."

Brennan smiled. She'd never even considered that perspective. She knew that passion was driven by biological urges, but she'd never thought of having a relationship separate from sex. This love, that she'd never believed truly existed—she'd find it, and neither of them could confuse it with lust or physical pleasure. Booth was smarter then she gave him credit for.

She kissed him again, wrapping her arms around his neck, and clinging as though she'd never let go. Their kisses were interrupted once more by a whisper from Booth.

"I want you to come to church with me."

She began to protest, but he shushed her with a finger to her lips.

"Just hear me out." He asked.

Brennan was silent, but doubts began flooding to the surface. He wasn't trying to "save" her, was he?

"I know of a church—a church of scientists. They are all accomplished researchers, doctors, and professors, who have used their study of science to solidify their faith in God. I'd like you to come with me, and you can determine for yourself if their claims are logical and legitimate."

Brennan was intrigued. A class of highly-trained professionals, declaring a belief in God? She was interested in hearing their conclusions, and their logic, whether she wanted to admit it or not.

"Okay," she conceded. "But, you're coming to yoga classes with me."

There wasn't much Booth could say. It would be the first of many compromises to come.

And so they lay there, smiling triumphantly at each other, each thinking that their concessions were completely worth it.


End file.
